


righteous

by hydrospanners



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Chantry Bashing, Gen, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of sexual violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 16:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14192781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrospanners/pseuds/hydrospanners
Summary: If being named Inquisitor has taught Niria Adaar anything, it’s that leadership is just another kind of servitude. In honour of an old friend, she decides to share that much-needed lesson with the Chantry.





	righteous

“No.”

The word reverberates through the sudden stillness in the air.

“No,” Ria says again, tightening her grip on the jagged edge of the war table. She can’t seem to look away from the little markers that hover around Val Royeaux.

“Do you think we should send more?” Josephine asks, politely ignoring the Inquisitor’s uncharacteristic solemnity.

Ria is in no mood to be coddled. “We won’t be sending anything. Not to the Chantry.”

“Inquisitor—”

“I said no, Josephine.” She looks up then, straight into the ambassador’s startled eyes. “Is there something about that you don’t understand?”

She shouldn't say such things. Not to Josie. Ria knows this; knew it before she opened her mouth. But it feels  _good_ to be vicious. Today she finds she  _likes_ the taste of cruelty on her tongue.

“I’ve heard enough of what the Chantry thinks and what the Chantry needs. If I never hear about your godsdamned Chantry again, it’ll be too fucking soon.” She relaxes her grip on the table to find blood smeared across the wood. Faintly, she’s aware of a burning in her palms. “I’m tired of bending over backward to appease those bigoted Hats.”

“You’re out of line, Inquisitor,” Cassandra says. Ria sees from the corner of her eye how her hand has settled on the hilt of her blade. The Seeker hasn’t missed the blood on Ria’s hands or the strangeness of her mood. Maybe she suspects demons at play. It always seems to be demons.

“Perhaps the Inquisitor has a better plan.” Leliana’s tone is as sharp as it is sweet, promising justice for the injury to Josephine. Ria can't bring herself to care. There's no punishment they can dream up that's worse than naming her Inquisitor, and they’ve already done that.

Josephine is, as ever, too skilled a diplomat to be deterred by a bit of coldness. She rallies quickly and says, “Surely you cannot mean to neglect the poor.”

“Which poor do you mean,  _Lady_ Montilyet? Or do you think there’s only one sort?”

Ria has been poor, technically speaking, for all of her life. She's known the poverty of an orphan, of an outcast, of a woman on the run. She's gone without eating for want of coin, watched her brother’s bones grow sharp beneath his skin. She's shivered through winters and fought fevers through the spring. She's robbed, beaten, threatened, and killed, all in the name of survival. Others have endured far worse. For every deprivation Ria's known, there are a dozen more she'll never see. Humans may hate and mistrust Qunari, but they fear them as well. Elves have no such protection.

“We’ve sent the Chantry hundreds of blankets and potions. We’ve sent them clothes and tools and food. Who did that help? Where do you think those supplies ended up?”

“If you’re worried about distribution—”

Ria cuts her off almost immediately. “With humans, Josephine. With the faithful. With the people most essential to the local nobility’s fields.” She stares again at the figurines around Val Royeaux, jaw clenched. “I begged at a Chantry or two when I was younger,” she explains. “I knew better even then, but Ries was getting thin and I was getting too weak to protect him. Desperate times. But I shouldn’t have bothered. They always ran out of stew just as I arrived. Always gave their last hunk of bread to the beggar who came before me. And those were the days the templars didn’t chase me off at the door.”

She swallows hard and looks up. Meets the eyes of her so-called advisors. It’s easier to look at their faces than to remember. “Have you ever been to the alienage in Val Royeaux?”

Leliana nods.

“Ten thousand people, all crammed into a space smaller than Skyhold. Starving and freezing and dying of disease. Selling their children to brothels, murdering each other for a pittance.” She remembers the scars on Liss’ back, the raised lines encircling her wrists and ankles and throat. She remembers how her aunt’s lover shied away from touch. “And much worse. All within spitting distance of your Divine. Close enough to hear your cathedral’s bells.”

Not that it was all despair. There was happiness in the alienage, too. Love. Hope. She remembers Liss’ family, their warmth and generosity. Near starvation themselves and still insisting Ria take double portions at meals. What a difference a few blankets and loaves of bread might have made to them, but they never received such charity. No coin to spare for the lowly elves; the Divine had hats to pay for.

Liss would have been forty-four today.

“Inquisitor, I…” Cassandra begins. Pauses. Lifts her chin and begins again, “The Chantry is not without its problems. Especially in Val Royeaux. But we cannot let that blind us to the people who depend on it. They would be the ones to suffer, not the clerics. Broken as it is, the people still need the Chantry. We still need faith.”

“If the people want the Chantry, then let the people save it. I’m done.” Ria pauses, wiping her bloody palms across her breeches. “Your Chantry speaks for all the world but only serves half of it. I’m done putting my name behind that. I’m done pretending their cruelty is righteousness, and I’m done giving them Inquisition resources to misuse. I'm not here to serve your Maker or your race or whoever has the biggest hats. I’m here to pull the whole damned world back from the brink. If you’ve got a problem with that… Well, maybe you should’ve thought a little harder about whose ass you wanted on the Inquisition's throne.”

She raises her head, turns to look each advisor in the eye. Their expressions are not easy to read.

After a beat, Leliana speaks. “The Inquisition has outposts across Thedas. It is possible… We could do what the Chantry will not.”

“The remaining clerics will see it for a slight,” Josephine warns.

Ria laughs harshly. “Good.”

“We do not have so many allies that we can afford to make enemies, Inquisitor. If you are determined to do this, we must handle it with some delicacy.”

“Be as delicate as you like, Lady Ambassador. But I won’t be kissing any holy arse. I’ve had enough. Of all of it.”

“I know we have asked a great deal of you—”

“My decision’s made,” Ria snaps. “Cullen? You know the outposts best. Will it work?”

“Our soldiers aren't clerics. And the Divine has considerably more Chantrys than we have outposts,” he says, his tone cautious. Hedging. She can’t help noticing how he grips the hilt of his sword.

“We don’t need to replace the Chantry, I think,” Leliana says. “Just serve the people it does not.”

Cullen turns to Cassandra as he considers this. Some manner of silent conversation passes between them, one stern look to another. It seems to resolve something for him; after a moment of hesitation, he nods. “It won’t be simple, but it can be done.”

For the first time since sunrise, light breaks through the gloom that had settled over Ria’s heart.

“It’s settled then,” she says, something like a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She allows herself to wonder what Liss would think of this. Allows herself to imagine she might be proud. “Nim and Varric can help. I’ll speak to Sera too.” Ria knows exactly how well a group of humans in uniform would go over with the people they most needed to reach. They’ll need to build a bit of trust first. “Everywhere Corypheus’ bullshit has touched, that’s where we’ll be. And everyone Corypheus’ bullshit has hurt, that’s who we’ll help.”

 _Yes_ , she thinks.  _Liss would be proud_.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fictober 2016. Originally posted on Tumblr.


End file.
